


Amortentia

by Nifflers_and_Crookshanks



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adorkable, Cinnamon Roll, F/M, FBAWTFT, Falling In Love, Fluff, Headcanon, Newt is a Dork, Slice of Life, Snippets of a Love Story, but I love him, newtina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks/pseuds/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks
Summary: Newt returns to New York to give Tina his book and their lives are irrevocably changed forever. From first kiss to first child, nothing would have been possible if not for that niffler and that book.





	1. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt returns to New York and gives Tina his book as an impromptu birthday gift.

_New York, Early morning, August 20 1927_

Queenie had left a small parcel on her desk in the auror’s office, a small thing wrapped up in dark pink tissue paper and tied with a lavender ribbon and the only evidence that she had passed by. Ever since her sister had gotten married Tina saw so little of her, and she promised that last night they would all have a nice birthday dinner together. But, she was an auror and therefore had no real control over her work hours, another bonus to the job alongside dangerous, and emotionally and physical demanding. It was a rule of thumb that auror did not often reach retirement age, but right then Tina wasn’t sure whether or not that was because of the high risk field cases posed or simply the stress that slowly induced one into a severe health condition early on in life. Both, in all likelihood. With another sigh, Tina began to gather her things, shuffling around her desk and briefly glancing at the clock Litt kept on his desk beside hers for the time. Six hours ago her birthday had gone for another year. By twenty five - twenty six, she corrected herself, - birthdays stopped being something to look forward to.

It wasn’t until she was out in the foyer, passing under an even greater clock as her feet hurried across the great eagle seal and the golden letters that spelt MACUSA that she saw something that stopped her in her tracks, staring dumbfounded through the glass of the doors. Standing outside, easily recognisable by that bright blue coat, was Newt Scamander, awkwardly having some sort of jittery argument with the doorman while successfully avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t believe it, blinking several times before frowning and opening her mouth as though to speak, before remembering he could neither see or hear her behind the charmed glass. Slowly, as though her limbs had somehow become thick with lead and refused to cooperate with her in time, she approached the door and came face to face with the doorman.

“Miss Goldstein.” The doorman greeted her. 

“Arthur.”

“Miss Goldstein.” 

“Mr Scamander.” Her memory had failed her quite exceedingly, Tina found, as she caught sight of his blue eyes again for the first time in almost two years. Once she had thought her mind would never allow her to forget a single detail about him, which was maddening to say the least, but how mistaken she was. Or perhaps he had changed over the years, she thought he looked even paler than last she saw him, and that his hair had been different - how was it different? she couldn’t say, it just looked it. Somethings never changed, however, like the way he always focused on the space to the right of her face when he spoke, at her eye level just above her ear.

“I’m sorry I just couldn’t think where to find you.” He said, sounding almost perplexed by the sound of his own voice. The first thing he’s said to her in months and it’s an apology, and she can’t help but smile.

“So you come to MACUSA at five passed six hoping I’d be around?” She questions, a smile on her face but a cold monotone ruling her voice. She’s started walking home by then, away from the Woolworth building, and he follows her.

“Well, yes, I needed to give something to you.” He explained, matching her speed until he is an inch away from being her equal, hanging back out of habit. It dawned on her. His book. He had come to give her his book on magical creatures.

“You finished it?” This sense of giddiness that had come over her was unfamiliar to Tina, something that she expected was a result of never really missing a close friend and being reunited with them - not that Newt was a close friend, she had known if for a span of three days before he left. And then she had thought about him for well more than three months afterwards.

“Yes, they’re um, they’re being released on the first of September, and I rather panicked when they told me and er, got the first boat out.”

“That’s wonderful.” Tina truly meant it, Newt deserved this chance at telling the world about his creatures, and she knew how much it meant to him besides. Making a conscious effort to slow her pace in hops of tricking him into standing beside her, something that she felt would make the conversation flow a lot easier. “How long have you been in New York, then, if you rushed?”

“An hour, but I, ah, got lost.” He admitted, following her through the winding streets until they found a dark alley to apparate in. Even at six in the morning New York City was as busy as ever.

* * *

 

Tina was never really aware of how messy her apartment could get until she had guests over, and regrettably apparition did not leave any time for her to tidy before her guest arrived, the pair of them appearing in the centre of her living room, the very heart of the clutter. Tina didn’t apologise, however, she was not one to apologise for being who she was and she knew Newt would never dare to comment and likely wouldn’t notice - he spent most of his time around animals anyway. She did, however, attempt to discreetly move some few personal items out of the way with her foot as Newt looked about the room, noticing all the subtle and not so subtle changes it had experienced in his absence.

“Queenie’s things are gone.” He noted, clearly wondering what that meant as he pressed his lips together, regretting he even spoke. A small bowtruckle, that Tina guessed was Picket, peeked out from behind the lapels of his coat as he looked up at the ceiling, waiting for her reaction.

“Yes, she’s married, moved out.” Tina explained, nodding. “To Jacob, actually, she turned up at his bakery one day and he, well, remembered her.”

“He wasn’t obliviated properly?” Newt inquired, clearly surprised but not displeased with the idea, rather quite the opposite.

“No, he remembered everything, Queenie, you, me, everything.” She assured him, remembering how shocked she was when her sister dragged Mr Kowalski in, thinking she had gone absolutely crazy to come into contact with a no-maj that they had obliviated, and how happy she had been for Queenie and Jacob when she realised it hadn’t worked. “I was supposed to be meeting them last night, actually, but you know auror work.” No, no he probably didn’t know anything about auror work.

“Oh, yeah, auror work is, uhh, difficult.” He nodded, eyes fixated on her shoes.

“Do you want something to eat?” She eventually asked, the awkward silence Newt seemed more comfortable in than conversation putting her teeth on edge. “I’m not as good as Queenie and I am very tired, but I have a lot of food leftovers.” Tina wasn’t used to cooking for one, which meant she had a lot of leftovers all the time. More convenient than sad, really.

“That would be fine.” Newt answered, and quickly Tina took her coat off, emptying her pockets onto the table beside the coat rack, and extended a hand for her guest’s before she could think to ask him. Somewhat begrudgingly Newt removed his coat and handed it to her. Tina notice the weight in it, and her mind leaped to the book faster than anything, before her mind ran away with her thinking about all the likely things Newt Scamander had in his pockets. He could have that niffler in there for all she knew. Dismissing her speculations as silly, Tina proceeded to slowly move out all the baked goods that seemed to swamp her pantry until she found what she was looking for, but by that time Newt had seen the cake.

It was very small, humble really, with just some little blue icing on top, white letters spelling out Happy Birthday Tina elegantly despite the entire confectionery being small enough to fit in her hand. Newt just stared at it for a while, until she noticed what he was looking at and stopped. He didn’t ask a lot of questions, just waited until someone had the courtesy to give him the answers, it was another reminder of the kind of person he was.

“It was my birthday yesterday.” She explained, summing with a swish of her wand plates and glass wear, and now it was her time to avoid eye contact. She didn’t know why she was embarrassed saying it, she wasn’t ashamed of her age exactly, it was just that people tended to make a big event out of birthdays with parties and she had never really appreciated that.

“Happy Birthday.” Was all he said, and that was the end of the discussion until the majority of the dinner was consumed. Eventually, Newt found it high time to ask a small question. “How old are you now?” He asked quietly, and seeing her face of shock and recovering what social sensibilities that had been drilled into him as a young adult hurriedly apologised. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer that, I, I was just curious.”

“Oh.” Tina replied, because that’s all she could say. “That’s fine, fine, um I turned twenty six yesterday.” Some fleeting expression of surprise passed over his face, and alarmed she responded hastily, “What? Did you think I was older?” She supposed it was the haircut, and the clothes. Probably the lack of a smile too, she’d always been so conscious of that.

“Um, no I just didn’t think you were twenty four when we met, that’s all.”

“And you, Mr Scamander? When were you born?” 

“The third of September, 1897.” He replied, seemingly immersed in the remnants of the meal on his plate. “I’m turning thirty next month.” She might have looked thirty with her downcast expressions and conservative dress, but Newt Scamander did not look a day over twenty six, that she was positive of it. Then again, how had he spent so much time researching his beasts if he was as young as he seemed?

“Oh, Happy Birthday.” She congratulated him, loathing the silence that ensued. "Great weather for August."

"Oh yes, yes very fine weather." 

The dinner ended in what would of been silence, had it not been for the scrape of cutlery on china plates, and Tina set about cleaning and putting away the dishes with a series of delicate flicks of her wand, still making a mistake here and there from being out of practice, very aware of the man - or boy - that stood a few metres away in the living room, eyes bouncing about the walls. She was so conscious of his movements, or as aware as one could be with their back turned, and yet he was still able to take her by surprise, for when she turned around with her task complete he was standing directly in front of her. 

"I know it's not a real birthday gift, it's not wrapped or anything, but I, uh..." Newt Scamander was always so endearing and strangely perfect, even when he was tripping over his words, sheepishly raising and then dropping his hand, a hand that held a very new, very red book. "Happy Birthday." He finished with a smile, finally deciding he ought to hand it to her, and gently Tina accepted it. 

"It's perfect, Newt." She murmured, fingertips brushing over the gold lettering that spelled in bold font 'FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM', and her heart swelled when they passed over the name _Newton Scamander_ below the print.This was his whole life, something that he had dedicated the last decade to creating, yes, but the fact that he had been so driven to research the creatures he loved so much and share his findings with the world. He was so wonderfully Newt. She didn't even notice she had called him by his first name she was so overwhelmed. What she did notice was that when she hugged him he smelled like dried grass and sunshine, or atleast what she would imagine sunshine would smell like. It seemed so familiar and comforting, and so very much like Newt, that she could not help but be confused as to why it reminded her of the dimly lit cellar-like potions classroom of her fifth year.

They halved her small birthday cake and shared it between them, and their weren't many awkward silences for a long time. It was only afterwards that Tina remembered her lesson on the strongest love potion in the world, and the significance of that smell that was so incredibly Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I decided he first published it under 'Newton Scamander' just because it was more formal, and it follow up editions he would change it to Newt, dunno why. More chapters soon if anyone is interested :)


	2. A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina and Newt spend time together, which eventually leads to a kiss.

_New York, Early evening, December 10th 1927_ ,

Tina had made it a habit of retreating to the fire escape at the back of her building whenever she felt the need for privacy, or rather felt that her sister and Jacob required it, and the early evening hours was no exception. It was Friday night, and night was falling as she sat out on her little perch, using her wand to twirl the little snow flakes that had landed on the railing perhaps an hour ago, yet to dissolve in the frigid temperatures the city was already experiencing. Despite having nothing to shield her from the winter temperatures save a fuzzy old cardigan that the sisters had always owned the witch did not feel the cold just yet, having escaped the confines of the small apartment for more than one reason - the fact that the fire that had been on for at least three days was bringing the living room to boiling temperature was a start.

The auror had always been good at charms, she had continued on to Higher Level I.M.Ps for it and passed with flying colours, and it was almost second nature for her to give her wand another flick and slowly guide the snow she had entertained herself with into two figures that resembled human forms, and lead them in something that resembled a waltz. They were beautiful and elegant, moving to the rhythm of silent music as they glided in front of her, and she smiled despite herself. She was so emerged in the snow silhouettes that the instincts of a natural auror failed her, and she did not recognise that she was being watched, instead her smile growing as she began to hum, the figures changing their tempo to match her humming. And then, as they waltzed in front of her eyes and Tina lost focus on her task, the figures evolved from the depersonalised silhouettes to a male figure that looked talk and lanky, with the lapels of his coat upturned and his hair a chaotic thing atop his head, not unlike someone Tina knew, and a female that had hair straighter and shorter than what was fashionable, her sensible clothes creating next to no difference in her form.

Newt Scamander was used to watching people, far more used to it than interacting with them, and besides he enjoyed it. Studying their behaviour, watching their responses, it made it simpler to read how they really felt, rather than conversation, with the guess necessary to respond appropriately in dialogue often befuddling him. Queenie and Jacob were interesting people to watch, sitting a resectable distance away from each other by the fire, just talking, but Newt was perceptive enough to decide that there was an underlaying exchange in body language that formed the basis of their communications. This flirtation seemed just as complex Erumpent mating dances he had come to study, and even harder for him to understand, but none the less curious. Soon however, he returned to the book he had been pretending to read, entitled _Cassandra and Her Cat Gustavus_ , which, while he was sure was a thrilling read in truth, struggled to hold his attention. He began to reread the third sentence of the first chapter for the fifth time when some delicate humming easily drew his attention away from the riveting read, faint through the glass but louder than the crackling of the fire. Jacob and Queenie, so engaged in their little dance, paid it no attention.

He had found himself looking Tina’s way for some time now, truly ever since he met her, but the regularity at which he saw her only increased his interest, and now he could hardly tear his eyes away from her huddled form, his stomach giving a little somersault when he caught sight of her smile. Her smile was rare, even more so in these increasingly troubled times, but that only made them even more precious. Perhaps it was how nice her smile was that made him want to put it there, but Newt had come to doubt that it was the only reason for this want to make her eternally happy. He did not recognise the tune, but he did know it was off key, and more than slightly, and still he cared not. She was smiling, her dark eyes fixated on the whirling snow flakes she was charming, not the only things she had enchanted, and a smile grew on Newt’s face despite himself, just from the pleasure of watching her be happy.

“Who wants cocoa?” Queenie chirped when there was a lull in the conversation, hastily looking to the wind to check the sun had not set as Jacob expressed his agreement to the proposal and Newt offered a gentle smile in confirmation. In practicality Queenie didn’t need to stand or move to the kitchen, but out of habit from years of living without access to her wand, and only when she reached the counter did she pull out her wand and begin. Jacob watched the process, while Newt returned to studying Tina. It was only when the scent of melted chocolate and milk found it’s way to him did he have the presence of mind to keep up the pretence that he was reading the epic saga of Cassandra and Gustavus, Queenie carefully sending three cups into the living room.

“Why don’t you go out and take one to Teenie, Newt?” The witch suggested, and Newt had a very strong suspicion that she had read his thoughts, something that had become a habit of hers, a sort of game trying to decipher the supposed ‘accent’ his thoughts had, something that despite his months in New York still seemed to be a trouble to her. He felt a hot rush of embarrassment wash over him, but accepted the two cups that hovered by his shoulder.

Opening a window while holding onto two hot beverages without spillage was almost impossible, but somehow Newt managed it, and shyly placed the first one on the window ledge. Tina, now distracted from her musings over the charmed snow chips, hurriedly took the beverage, murmuring a thank you. Threw mastery of the acrobatics Newt then proceeded to somehow fold his body through the window and onto the fire escape without having to claw his way through it or unbalancing his cup of cocoa, an almost elegant performance.

“Very good.” Tina praised, pulling her cardigan closer to her with her freehand and turning away to face straight ahead. Newt did the same.

“Wonderful view.” Newt noted, with no hint of irony in his voice as his eyes met a dark brick wall, the windows boarded up and the fire escapes rusting. Tina smiled, recognising that he was only making an effort to start a conversation, but when she failed to respond he grew nervous. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologised, the words flowing out so quickly one might have thought them insincere if they did not know him so well. Except, Tina told herself she didn’t know him, because she lacked information on simple facts rather than understanding his character, understanding him came easily to her.

“You don’t need to apologise, Newt.” Mr Scamander had become Newt very quickly in the piece, after sharing her birthday with him and exchanging a hug it seemed ridiculous to name him by his surname. Similarly, Miss Goldstein swiftly evolved into Tina, but he would revert back to more formal terms when he grew flustered.

“Right, sorry, habit and all.” He nodded with a sigh, wincing a little as another apology came out of his mouth without thinking. He tended to apologise in social situations, just incase he said or did the wrong thing, which somehow he believed was every time he opened his mouth. “I’m going to stop now.” He promised firmly, but Tina knew it wold take more than that for him to stop asking for forgiveness every time he spoke. “I suppose it becomes annoying, I would become annoying,” mumbling was his speciality when he was alone with Tina, something he was very conscious of and embarrassed by, but something he could hardly control.

His self doubting hit her hard. She kept having to remind herself she didn’t know a lot about him, even if she had seen him almost everyday for the last four months, because she can’t help but start to believe every time she sees him that he is the kindest, bravest most loyal and loving person in the world, with such certainty it scares her. How could he doubt for an instant, let alone think or say, how precious he was to all around him - how precious he ought to be to the entire world. Except, she knew how his mind worked, it wasn’t dissimilar to hers even if he was a better person, she understood that trying to convince him he wasn’t annoying by talking, wasn’t imposing on someone by his presence and wasn’t worthless by having his own faults and weaknesses, now that was going to take a long time. Wounds on the heart were the hardest to heal because they affected the mind so deeply, that’s what made him so easy for Queenie to read, and Tina understood that wounds like that didn’t heal with words, they healed with constant displays of love and adoration.

“I don’t think you’re annoying, Newt.” Was all she could say, a whisper that only reached his ears because of the silence the cold night air had instilled on the evening. He looked at her quickly, but then what little improvement he had made in making eye contact with her over the course of their acquaintance was lost in a bout of embarrassment and anxiety. He did not know how to respond to her, and so they stood and sipped their cocoas, staring at the dank brick wall ahead. When they were finished Tina sent them inside, and she supposed it was still an achievement that he didn’t bolt and clamber inside. In truth, Newt didn’t know why he remained on the escape, more opportunity to humiliate himself in front of someone who’s opinion he valued, to say the least. He just wanted to be close to her, and to see that beautiful smile on her face and know he put it there.

There was a light dusting of snow on the rails that had fallen from the morning snow and had yet to be displaced, and Newt decided it was the best he could. He was not gifted in charms, had barely passed his O.W.L’s on it in fact, transfiguration was his strength in the wand department, but he could make snow figures as well as the next person, even if he did it the muggle way. The snow kept falling apart, and what was produced as his handiwork was just a simple miniature snow man, with three small snowballs forming it all. Tina was not looking his way, however, and he wasn’t about to ask for her attention. Instead, he began perfecting snow figures, until a few things that he hoped resembled a niffler, bowtruckle and erumpent. He was working on what might have been a mutated thunderbird when Tina released a loud sigh and spun to face him, mouth open as though she had been planning an announcement and had finally decided to say it. She stared in surprise and the little balls of snow that littered the railing, and then she smiled, and Newt’s heart swelled with joy. The smile he returned was more alike to a grimace, extended his poor attempt at another Frank in his hand. Her smile erupted into peels of laughter and the slushy mess.

Now, Newt was familiar with people laughing at him and his actions, but the idea that someone could laugh at him without malice or mocking was very alien to him, what few friends he had earned being too shy to do anything similar to teasing each other. Tina’s laughter meant something to him completely different to reality, and his face turned pink and he bowed his head, staring at his shoes. “Sorry, they’re so stupid, that was so stupid-” _I’m so stupid_.

“They are not stupid.” His eyes would have remained fixed to the ground had it not been for the conviction he detected in her voice, and the emotion that charged an undercurrent of urgency in her tone. “Newt Scamander, nothing about you is stupid.” Her eyes were windows to her soul, and right then there were the beginnings of tears there, but they hardened at her resolve. She knew him, and she knew the wounds he carried need someone to stay with him and support him as he healed - he would heal in time, he needed to. The question was whether she was prepared to act as his support, to love him and devote herself to him. She wasn’t a healer, she didn’t have the heart her sister did nor the strength, she broke so easily when she cared too much, and there was no way she could know if she could even consider spending the rest of her life with him, love him was still such a stretch. She hardly knew him, she needed to remind herself of that.

She hardly knew him, but she still looked behind them into the living room to see Queenie and Jacob with their heads together talking in low voices, and back to Newt’s curious eyes, and then again to check her sister and brother-in-law were still where she thought. Taking tentative steps she closed the distance between, then slowly she reached her hand up to touch his face, and closed her eyes so she didn’t react to the surprise that would be evident on his face when she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

It was not a good kiss, in many respects, both their lips were chapped from the cold, he had made no move to accomodate for height difference and meet her halfway out of pure shock, and Tina had come to understand that all first kisses were awkward. And yet, there was something enchanting about the way she felt when their lips touched, and her need to reassure him, to banish all the flaws he had owned within his head, pushed her to continue despite his stillness. But it didn’t help that he made no response whatsoever, the motionless status of his lips against hers a resounding rejection of whatever she had declared by her actions. She stopped, somewhat ashamed by her own ridiculous attempts at … at what? At comfort, or a desperate plea for someone to recognise that she was lonely and very much longing for reciprocation of the feelings she felt for him.

Tears were stinging her eyes, threatening to stream down her face by the time she opened her eyes to stare at the ground as Newt so often did, and what humiliation she had felt evaporated with the pangs of rejection, this silent refusal that only came once she had laid out her heart and jeopardised one of the most valuable friendships she had ever made. She closed her eyes, blocking out the world as her heart broke inside of her.

Tina turned her head and was about to run and hide, cower in her bedroom and try her hardest to lock Queenie out of her head, when she felt cold hands brush against her cheek and her wounded eyes met his. He leant down so fast she wasn’t able to process what was happening until his lips were on hers and moving in a way that made her feel dizzy, if the fact that he was kissing her wasn’t enough. And, when they pulled apart they stared into each others eyes for what seemed like hours, neither one eager to retreat inside or prepared to initiate a second kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I.M.Ps are something I made up just cause I figured Ilvermorny would have a different set of exams, and I get that this is less about the kiss and more about the build up but oh well... Next Chapter: First Date! 
> 
> Have a nice day wonderful humans :)


	3. A Bad Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meddling sister brings about an accidental first date.
> 
> So sorry for the late update, work sort of drowned me :)

_New York, Late morning, December 11th, 1927_ ,

Jacob’s bakery was nestled comfortably in the neighbourhood he had spent most of his life, he had grown up on the street, had gone to school two blocks away and got his first job as a paperboy off one of the corners a street down. And, what little he had left of his family was there, so every once and a while Queenie would leave work early and meet him at his shop, from there walking all of sixteen metres to gather t0 where his great aunt lived in a modest apartment above the fruit shop to have dinner with her. The Goldstein sisters had lost their parents to Dragon Pox when they were too young to tie their own shoelaces, and Jacob had lost his mother and father to Spanish Flu before he was able to return from Europe in the War, leaving him with just Old Aunt Maja, who appreciated the company. On the weekend they would visit her on Saturday for early afternoon dinner that was, Maja insisted, still dinner and Jacob would close the bakery early.

Queenie had suggested Tina join her when she visited her sister in the late morning, and despite her unwillingness to be subjected to the vile December chill, Tina consented, knowing it was best she didn’t hibernate for the winter, or at least not all of it. Smiling, her sister had then queried as to whether or not Tina was willing to share what had happened the night before or if she was still too uncomfortable to discuss kissing Newt Scamander. Tina had dropped the dish she was holding, the pre-prepared food cooked the day before scattering across the floor as she whirled about to face Queenie.

“Don’t do that!” Tina wasn’t even sure why she had bought all those books like Living With Legilimens if her Occlumency was still so poor as to let Queenie see her most heavily guarded thoughts without her even realising. One of her colleagues who was well practiced in Occlumency had explained that it was far more difficult for an Occlumens to protect their mind from someone they had a close relationship with, to the point where it might be impossible to conceal their thoughts from them at all, and Tina was beginning to believe that was the case.

“It wasn’t your thoughts, all though you did think about it a lot at dinner-” Tina flushed a furious red as her eyes grew wide and panicked, causing Queenie to end that particular sentence. “It was the way you two acted around each other afterwards that gave it away.” Newt had refused to even look at her when Jacob called them in, and Tina had not said anything other than a mumbled thank you and goodbye the entire night to anyone. “You’re hurting Tee, it makes you easier to read so I know why you’re upset, but please just let me in so we can talk about it.” With a sigh, Tina let down her guard and began to clean up the destroyed meal, magic making easy work of it.

When she found a seat at the table she sighed again, eventually declaring “I’ve done something really stupid, Queenie.”

“It isn’t stupid if you like him, which I know you do.” Was her sister's wise correction. “He has at least an idea of how you feel about him now, anyway.” There was another alarmed expression on Tina’s face when she finished, so Queenie hurriedly explained. “I don’t know that from reading his mind, Teenie,” she chided, “accents are hard and besides, I don’t tend to pry.” The last comment earned a snort from her sister. “If you kissed him then he’ll know that he matters more to you than just a friend, and I do need to remind you that he kissed you back.”

“You don’t know if he meant it!” Tina insisted, rolling her eyes at Queenie’s expression that communicated a smugness that was rare and an all-knowing air that was ever rarer, and an arched eyebrow followed her rebuff. “You know Newt, he has strange ideas when it comes to what’s expected of him, y’know he… He thinks as a guest he needs to do all the chores and if someone compliments him they expect one in return and, Queenie he might have just thought it was polite or a social obligation.”

“There was nothing polite ’bout the way he kissed you.” The legilimens corrected, and Tina felt absolutely mortified that her sister had sifted through her memories of that moment. “There wasn’t Tee! He put in a lot more effort than you did, if anything and-” Tina’s theory was that growing up as legilimens meant that Queenie, despite being an incredibly emotionally sensitive and compassionate person, she never did grasp the idea that some things were appropriate to say and some things weren’t, having heard and seen all manner of things bouncing around other people’s heads all her life.

“Queenie, I don’t think he feels the same way, talking about how he kissed me isn’t going to change it.” Tina finally interrupted her, growing increasingly more uncomfortable as her sister began to describe the details of the second kiss.

“Y’know he was staring at you for half an hour before he went out there, he was pretending to be reading but he was actually just lookin’ at you. You made him feel really happy, Teenie, just ’cause he saw your smile.” There was a smile on Queenie’s face as she told her.

“I thought you couldn’t read him because of the accent,” Tina replied, disbelief getting in the way of any sort of elation she should have been feeling. People didn’t tend to like her, especially not in that way. She was too distant, too grounded and too practical and cynical to make friends easily, and for most men she as far too ambitious and independent for them to even consider her anything other than an obnoxious career-girl. Then again, Newt Scamander was not most men and one could never pretend that he was.

“It’s easy when someone’s hurting, and even when he was happy he was hurting.” Queenie left in unsaid that he had been hurting because of how preposterous he had believed Tina caring for him was, but the statement hung in the air between the sisters. “So…” She began again, breaking the silence, “did you like it?”

“Queenie!” Was the appalled reply she received for her teasing?

“What?! You’re blushing, Tee!”

* * *

 

Tina did not think of her sister’s invitation to a walk about the area as a master plot to shove her and Newt Scamander together, but as soon as she walked into Jacob’s bakery she realised how gullible she had been. There, standing across the counter from her brother-in-law, was Newt, easily recognisable by… well everything about him, really, everything was such a contrast to what you would expect of a person. Bright blue coat that was overly large for him, clothes that swallowed his slim form, the awkward height in comparison to his slim form, the ruffled brown curls and the hunched over way he stood, as if attempting to make himself smaller. Newt.

“Hey,” Queenie chirped, causing Jacob to break off his sentence and Newt to turn around, “ready to go?” The question was directed at Jacob, so Newt just stood there pretending to be unable to see or hear the conversation, assuming he wasn’t involved and therefore was not wanted. Tina felt herself go pink as his eyes met hers, realising she had been staring at that he was looking at her, and then hastily he averted his gaze, suddenly enraptured by the demiguise pastries on display. What exactly was Queenie playing at?   
“Yeah sure, let me grab my coat.” Was the bakers casual reply, but there was an amused undertone in his voice that lead Tina to believe he was a fellow conspirator alongside Queenie and therefore was no longer to be trusted, despite how kind his heart or how delicious his baking was.

“Teenie’s been swamped in paperwork from the auror office so I thought she might appreciate the walk down here, New York’s is lovely at Christmas and all.” Her sister declared for her, perhaps answering a subconscious question in Newt’s head or just trying to start a conversation. Newt nodded, but made no indication that he was interested, Tina feeling even more awkward as Queenie continued. “Jacob and I thought maybe we could all go back to our place after, have a nice meal before we split for the holidays. We’ll only be an hour maybe, would you mind terribly just hanging around until we get back?” Politeness required the pair to stifle any objections they had on the matter.

Desperately, Newt turned to Jacob as the no-maj was shrugging on his coat, the same expression on his face as a man drowning in an ocean, eyes pleading to be rescued. He had been very kindly invited to the bakery to see what his occamy eggshells donation had achieved, and was delighted with the result, the Kowalski Bakery obviously everything Jacob had wanted it to be and more. One thing he had not consented to was have Tina in the same room as him, at all. In fact, he had decided that Saturday was a perfect fit to see the bakery because that meant he would not find himself at MACUSA doing the work he had been offered to do over the course of his stay in New York, and therefore not run the risk of meeting the aforementioned Miss Goldstein. Of course, he had’t expected his friend to work against him in such a way.

Jacob had known about the incident of the night before, likely because Queenie had told him, and had brought it up when Newt first arrived, inquiring even as he switched the sign from open to closed. He had first asked what happened, because he couldn’t read minds and Newt was thankful Queenie had not gone into detail explaining it to her husband. Then, he asked how he felt about it, which was a strange question to impose in any circumstance. How did he feel about it? How would anyone feel about someone they liked kissing them, realising it was a mistake and trying to leave before you ruin everything and kiss them? Terrible. Pretty terrible. Embarrassed, apologetic and incredibly terrible.

Newt didn’t know what he had expected to come of what he felt for Tina, which he very much understood was more than what a friend feels for another friend, infinitely so, but it wasn’t this. It was foolish of him to think that he could even gain her attention, let alone be enough for someone like her, he wasn’t enough for anybody, even the people he was related to agreed it was easier for him to keep to himself and send back a letter on birthdays and holidays - except now that he was a published author, of course. Usually Newt just accepted that he wasn’t ever going to meet the expectations people had set him, was never going to fit the mould of an ideal individual, and he had been content with that for the most part, but Tina made him want to tick the boxes and fit those criteria if it meant that … Well, it didn’t matter anymore, and now he had to figure out how to come out of the jungle in one piece.

* * *

 

"We won’t be long now.” Jacob reminded them as they filed out of the shop, producing a key and locking the door behind them. “Meet back here in an hour?” If I don’t run away first, was Tina’s initial thought in response to her brother-in-law, but she kept that thought to herself.

When Queenie and her husband were a considerable distance away Tina and Newt nervously turned to each other, awkward smiles unable to conceal the terror both had in their eyes facing spending an entire hour together after the so dubbed incident of the previous evening. Without saying anything, or really looking at her, Newt gestured down the opposite end of the street and the pair began to walk in that direction in silence.

“I’m really sorry,” Newt finally said as they turned the corner, a heavy sigh causing his shoulders to droop, “I put you in a difficult position and I’m sorry, really very sorry.” He reaffirmed, keeping his eyes to the ground. “Sorry.”

“Yeah I’m…” Tina began after a moment, unsure if she was meant to reply. What was she meant to say? I’m sorry for trying? I’m sorry for hoping you felt what I felt? No, Tina wouldn’t apologise for at least putting her heart out there, even if she was very much embarrassed by how she did it and what it lead to. Her only real regret was that he didn’t feel the same, and she couldn’t very well say that, so she just let herself trail off. Still, there was something wrong with him being the only one to apologise. “Newt, I don't think you should apologise so much.” She said, the statement drifting in the slight wind, an odd declaration, but something she needed to say all the same. “Not just about this, but about everything, you seem to think of yourself as a burden and you’re not.”

“I tend to get annoying.” Newt eventually mumbled, having always considered his apologies appropriately numbered and timed. He didn’t really expect such a large reaction from Tina at his words, however.

“Newt you are not annoying.” She knew he liked the company of animals over people, for many reasons, but one that was strikingly plain to her was that humans could injure him far more than his animals ever could. These sentiments had been conditioned into his head by years of poor reactions to his eccentricities, possibly making them even more prominent, and it made her heart break at just the thought. “Never, ever say that, okay?” As her voice grew stronger she turned to face him, feeling the emotions bubble inside that had caused her to kiss him in the first place. This was going to turn into a bad habit if she wasn’t careful, randomly kissing him at inconvenient times. Turning to face him, Tina had lost any self consciousness or embarrassment. “Jacob doesn’t find you annoying, he’s your friend because he likes you and your company, Queenie doesn’t find you annoying, she’s your friend because she knows that you’re such a good and amazing person, and I-” She stopped herself, because she didn’t want to say she was his friend. It stung to realise that was all she was. “Newt, I don’t want to be just your friend because you are the kindest, most compassionate and loving person I have ever know and ever will. You’re not annoying.” 

“What?” He blinked in surprise, as though he had been surrounded in mist for the entire conversation and was only just beginning to see.

“You’re not annoying! Good witch Morrigan were you even listening?!” She wasn’t angry, and she didn’t sound it, just desperate and frustrated.

“What about the friend situation?” He asked, seeming so infuriatingly confused.

“Newt!” Tina didn’t think it was very safe anymore to be standing all lone in the street, she felt like she was about to pull out her wand and do something she regretted, or better yet the no-maj way and simply throttle him. “You’re friends don’t think you’re strange or annoying, how many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You said you didn’t want to be just my friend.” Newt clarified, not reacting to how worked up she was becoming.

“I think we covered that when I kissed you last night.” She responded, feeling a small degree of embarrassment return remembering that moment. “Look, I really like you Newt, and if you don’t feel the same way it’s fine, I just don’t want to lose my friend.” Tina hoped her eyes could communicate what she felt, staring into his with such earnest she felt tears well up in them again, Queenie had always said anyone who saw her eyes could read her thoughts, but then again Queenie was always able to anyway.

And then he kissed her, and all Tina could think was that she wasn’t the one falling into a bad habit. When the broke apart, Newt was blushing and focused on the air to the right of her eyes than actually looking at her. “I’ve felt the same way for quite sometime, Miss Goldstein.” He always called her by her last name when she made him nervous.

* * *

 

“So, would you like to go out with me some time, Mr Scamander?” Tina eventually asked, turning to face the individual beside her, fairly confident there was nothing on her face. She had bought hot dogs for them upon realising he had never had one (“Newt, you can not live in New York for four months and not have eaten a hot dog!”) and with them they retreated to the Kowalski Bakery, a simple “alohomora” ensuring they did not freeze on the doorstep. They would have obediently sat outside like responsible people had it not been for the risk of pneumonia the December weather threatened.

“I would very much like that, Miss Goldstein.” Newt asserted, unable to refrain from smiling as he said so.

“And what would you like to do on suggested first or second or whatever date?” She asked, but really neither of them cared, they just liked the idea of talking about spending more time with each other, especially as more than just friends.

“First or second or whatever?” He inquired with a frown and a smile.

“Well what would you call this? What is the definition of a date, more precisely?!” Tina replied, now very much aware she was talking for the sake of it. “One, it is a pre decided time in which two individuals with a romantic interest in one another meet, two, within said time frame they spend most of the time asking questions to decide whether or not the other is worthy of a second date, and three, an awful lot of it is rather awkward.” Come to think of it, she never really was this chatty unless she was drunk, but perhaps it was just because she was happy. Or more fittingly, giddy.

“Do we fit the criteria?” Newt played along, significantly quieter than she was, but still fairly talkative.

“Well, Jacob and Queenie did the first one for us, and the first little bit was fairly awkward, but I still haven’t gotten to know you.” Tina mused, already wondering what sort of questions she ought to ask him.    
“I practically live with you, I think you know me, Tina.” Newt smiled, very aware of how much time he truly did spend with Jacob, Queenie and Tina, when he wasn’t at the Kowalski’s he was in the old brownstone flat of Tina’s, that was a fact.

“I understand you, I think,” Tina explained, “though I would like to understand you more too, don’t misunderstand me, I still don’t know a lot of details about you, Mr Scamander.”

“Like what, Miss Goldstein?” They really needed to stop running in circles with the surname thing…

“What is your favourite colour?” Tina asked, but she was sure she could already guess the answer.

“Yellow, or blue.” He answered after a short pause, and Tina grinned. She always associated yellow with him, and blue, mainly because of his coat and scarf perhaps, but yellow seemed to fit his personality to, a bright sunbeam in a grey world. “You?”

“Blue, dark blue. Your turn to ask the question, Mr Scamander.” Why did she do that?

“Alright then, favourite animal.” Tina’s grin grew broader.

“Kneazle.” She said at last, and seeing the expression on his face hurriedly explained. “I know, a world full of magical animals and I pick a cat’s aggressive cousin,” that earned a small laugh from him, “but we used to have one when we were little and he and Queenie were my best friends. I’m guessing that asking you yours would be like asking a mother who their favourite child is, though.”

“Something like that,” Newt agreed with a smile, “but I do have considerably more patience with bowtruckles than anyone else.”   
“More specifically Pickett.” Tina corrected him, and Newt laughed. “Full name?”

“You go first.” Newt said quickly, and Tina did not ask why.

“Porpentina Esther Goldstein.” She never liked her name, Porpentina was too austere and standoffish, and even if people thought that about her she would not embrace it, she by far preferred Tina. “Porpentina for my father’s mother, and Esther because my mother liked it. Your turn.” He seemed decidedly shy now, sitting beside her on the ground of the bakery, and Tina struggled to understand how he became shyest at that part of the conversation.

“Uhh, Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.” He said with a blush, very aware of how some people reacted to his name. He even had his usual responses off-by-heart. “No, Artemis is not just a girls name, yes, I know there was a famous ancient witch but it is unisex,” and “Yes, a lot of muggles name their dogs Fido it doesn’t change it from being an esteemed wizarding name,” were very often his first responses. Newt was fully prepared for Tina to laugh, well, maybe not entirely prepared but certain she would, but all she did was grin, and not about what he had expected.”

“I’m half expecting a number on the end of that,” Tina admitted, shaking her head, “It’s just all very serious and long and it belongs to you of all people.”

“And I’m not very serious?” Newt challenged, a slight grin on his face as he ducked his head, a tinge of bashfulness coming over him.

“Newton is a stretch for how familiar I consider you to be,” Tina smiled, “although you are still consistently overly polite and apologetic.” This lead to another silence neither had expected, things had been progressing so well, but then Tina could not think of anything to add and Newt struggled to voice his words. Eventually, however he discovered the words were forcing there way out.

“Tina, would my asking you this alter that image and cause you to think me intolerably impolite?” Tina very much doubted that anything he would ever do would make her think he was anything less than a gentleman. “Could I, could I possibly, um…”

“Newt.” Her tone of voice was enough to remind him to look her in the eye again, and as he raised his head she could see his mouth was set in a firm line, making him seem terribly anxious and very determined at the same time.

“Tina, I would very much like to kiss you again.” His eyes were beautiful, Tina couldn’t get over his eyes, she could hardly believe it was possible to forget their exact shade and the expressions within them.

“I would very much like that too.” She smiled, and then her lips were on his, more confident than before, and delightfully increasing in familiarity. Yes, a bad habit indeed.

That was also the exact time Queenie and Jacob returned, peering inside the dimmed store and then exchanging broad, broad smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically Queenie is responsible for their entire relationship, really, just because while I know Tina and Newt really like each other I feel both would need a helping hand in initiating things. So yeah, Queenie orchestrated everything because she cares and loves them both, which would be irritating and nosey in any other circumstances.
> 
> Also, I know Artemis was a greek god, not a witch, but dude I'm still bitter over the Morrígan being reduced to a witch and a nickname for Isolt, like that's one of the only objections I have to the Ilvermorny cannon and backstory.
> 
> And I may find myself increasing the rating a little, not that much, but you know, a tad.


	4. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you is a very difficult phrase to say, and sometimes it happens on accident.

_New York, early evening, March 22nd 1928_ ,

Newt had decided long ago that Tina was very much like himself. There were differences, of course, aside from basic anatomy, she was so brave and strong, grounded and practical while Newt was anything but. Shy, undetermined and aloof and flighty at best, their differences were originally a very glaring part of their dynamic when they first met. Then, over the months, he had grown to believe that perhaps they weren’t so different after all, surely that was why he was so drawn to her, and needless to say the words elation and surprise could not begin to describe how he felt when he learnt that she returned his feelings.

In March they had been together for three months. Three beautiful months in which they had fallen into a pattern of spending every waking moment together. Well, every waking moment allowed to themselves, Tina had her work as an auror at in the department of magical law enforcement for MACUSA, as always, and Newt had been filling a post in the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures, his position there as indefinite as his time in New York. Still, working in the same building did have it’s bonuses, and often times they spent their lunch breaks together and after work they would travel together, along with Queenie, to the Kowalski’s apartment, provided Tina was working on regular hours.    
“I had to drop something off for Queenie,” A familiar voice informed him from behind, and Newt grinned as he paused in feeding the new occamy hatchlings. “Thought I might drop in and say hey,” She added as he turned around. He saw that she looked tired, very tired, but she was smiling despite the dark circles under her eyes, that smile that made his heart beat faster.

Newt had been living in his suitcase in Queenie and Jacob’s apartment, spending most of his time either there or in Tina’s apartment, usually at the latter residence with two attentive chaperones, and often times when Tina had been held past hours, as auror work tended to be unpredictable in terms of a timeframe, she would still make an effort to see him, if only briefly. Sometimes it would be a book she thought Queenie would want in her new home, other times an old school memento she had discovered in some old box, and occasionally there was a real reason, but everyone knew that Tina just liked producing a cover story to save her from being accused of being sentimental. She tended to try and shield herself from such allegations, but Newt could very easily see through the little facade she wore to protect herself. She was different to him in that she still tried, still fought in earnest to help those around her, and alike to him in that she had given up on convincing people to think the best of her a long time ago.

“So, hey.”

“Hello.” Newt smiled back, moving closer to her. As a self professed magizoologist, although not exactly what he would consider an authority in the matter, Newton Scamander had studied a great number of interesting organisms, although none quite so impossibly unnerving to be around as Porpentina Goldstein. Yes, he had grown more relaxed in her presence over the course of their relationship, but ether was this strange way she had of making him feel fairly nauseous - in the nicest way, obviously. He was very certain he was going to make a fool of himself in front of her one day soon, shame himself into a complete ruin and she would … find someone more deserving to spend her time with, and the fear he had experienced working with Ukrainian Ironbellies was nothing in comparison to the fear he felt at the prospect.

“I missed you,” A simple phrase, but one that overcame any fear or doubt he had in her presence, that banished any dark or gloomy thoughts lurking in his mind and made his heart, well, it made his heart feel as thought it were glowing, and glowing so brightly that she could see the light from his chest. Without thinking he took her hands in his and held them, staring into her eyes in silent response. It wasn’t long before her lips were pressed against his again, hard, and the hands he had held so securely snaking about his waist in an effort to close the space between them. His own hands grew busy with the task of aiding her in her endeavours to bring them closer, while still maintaining some idea of what gentlemanly conduct was and avoiding areas best left avoided - at least at that time. The very thought increased the ardour in his response to her kiss.

It hadn’t been very long after the beginning of their courtship, as Newt had fallen into a habit of calling it, but not in front of Tina least he be teased, until they started sharing moments like this, moments when the entire world melted away and it was just them, entwined together, trying their hardest to express what they felt with their bodies as both were unable to communicate their emotions in words. Of course, for Newt it was because he was terrified of revealing his feelings, because all his years on the earth and all his interactions with humans prior to this one had taught him that the world did not love a gentle heart, it worked to destroy it. Tina… Well, Tina tended to brush aside her feelings, told herself that they couldn’t interfere with the task at hand, like simply surviving in the harsh place she found herself, commonly named life. Her feelings couldn’t matter when she had a purpose, had a duty to fulfil, but with Newt it seemed like they were all that mattered, and it was as difficult for her as it was slightly exasperating for him.

It was a challenge, trying to tell the other how they felt while still remaining within the boundaries of propriety, an increasingly onerous task as the amount they felt continued to build. Still, sexual and emotional frustration didn’t stop how perfectly _right_  it felt, her tongue teasing his replaced by her mouth beneath his ear, catches in her breath easily detectable as his hands ran up and down her back, wandering only slightly as their chests were forced even closer together. Newt learnt he had gone too far when Tina stilled, and he found that his hands had some how morphed so that his thumbs were on ether side of her front, still a few inches away from the beginning of the swell of her chest but moving upwards all the same. Embarrassed, and slightly confused as Newt had no recollection of moving his hands at all, he made an attempt to pull apart, and was very soundly stopped by Tina, pulling him into an embrace that shouted and screamed and murmured and whispered, all at the same time, that she cared about him as much as he cared about her, that she welcomed his touch as much as he did hers, that she needed him as much as he needed her. She wasn’t rejecting him, she’d never reject him.

They stood there for quite some time afterwards, in each others arms no longer finding the electric current that set their nerves on fire, the excitement and thrill replaced with a warm, soft sense of belonging that had been present in their previous embrace, but this time it was all consuming. Tina buried her face in his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as she breathed him in, the familiar scent of dried grass and something she would never identify telling her that this was home, this was where she should spend the rest of her life. The notion scattered her thoughts, caused her to hold onto him even tighter as she suppressed a choke. His hold grew firmer about her, either in response to her grip or the smothered noise she made in the back of her throat in surprise. Did she really want that?

Tina had never considered the idea of spending eternity with someone, ever. Even during the brief, foolish romances she had entertained in school Tina had known it was a finite thing, the giddiness (although she had always struggled to be giddy) and happiness, time and energy, another individual was willing to invest in her, and in turn she knew there was a limit to how much she could care for others. Yes, she believed all people were valuable, all deserving love and affection, but for her nothing was every grey, and so few people ever lived up to what she considered good so that she had long given up trying to make friends for herself. Instead, she forced herself to be content with helping as many people as possible, but not getting to know them, knowing she would be disappointed. She was not unlike Newt in that regard, except he had stopped actively trying to help humans a long time ago, very aware that not many people wanted his help and convinced he would probably do more harm than good. That’s why his creatures mattered so much to him, because he needed something to nurture and care for.

Perhaps that was why her mind was running about with silly notions popping up in all corners, because she and Newt were similar, because he made her feel understood and loved and wanted. He was better than her, though, kinder and more compassionate, she was sure of it, surely the purest individual she would ever meet. Tina didn’t know about being with him forever, despite his most beautiful of characters there was only so much patience, only so much devotion and spirit he would be willing to give her before she exhausted it all, and that made her heartbreak for fear of when that day would come, because Tina didn’t think she’d be with him until her death, but she knew she’d love him until the dark claimed her. So she kept ahold of him and he did not question why after a time she breathed in ragged gasps, or why his shoulder slowly came to feel damp beneath her face, because the same feeling of contentment and belonging had found him too, as had the fear of their separation.

The next day Tina returned again, this time with no excuse for her presence, no book to give to Queenie, she came just to see Newt. There was no bittersweet cloud about them that evening, no troubled glances, or suppressed tears, both having pushed those thoughts away from them. They were together right then, they wouldn’t let fears for the future or the hauntings of the past destroy what happiness they had found together. There was that feeling again, though, the numbing ease of tranquility and pure serenity that surrounded what they were together, what they would become together, and it was welcomed for as long as it would last.

The poffle of puffskiens Newt had rescued or adopted over the years tended to flop and rummage about the bushes and grass surrounding his shed, and after feeding all and spending time with all of the assorted creatures within the menagerie of sorts within the case, he had taken to sitting on the grass and enjoying their company for a little while before he returned to the world outside of his own. On nights like this Tina would sit with him, if she felt he welcomed her company, and they would chat and laugh amid the poffle and the long grass. These conversations often revealed more about Newt than any other, so relaxed within his cocoon of an ideal planet that information just sort of spilt forth and Tina enjoyed every second of it. Neither ever remembered what had sent them into fits of laughter that ached their ribs and brought tears to their eyes, perhaps it was the antics of the puffskiens, they were often laugh worthy, perhaps it was a funny story Tina or Newt remembered, they knew some, or perhaps one of them said something that could be misconstrued if the words were twisted, that always did it, but it was really rather insignificant in comparison to the consequences of this fit of laugher.

What was very dangerous about Porpentina Goldestin, Newt had discovered, was that observing her laughter and smile tended to send him into an attack of jitters and blushes, accompanied by a pleasant warm feeling in the chest and the need to be closer to her. This often meant he reflected on his connection to her while she laughed, and as seeing her laugh made him feel exceptionally elated (especially if he caused her to laugh) words would fall out of his mouth without him even realising - quite similar to how is body reacted when they kissed, it just happened without any thought or consideration and often he would look back after she was gone and worry himself sick over how she would interpret his actions and words.

Newt would always remember with perfect clarity that he had been shaking his head, as if he was casting off the laughter that was erupting from his throat, and through his broad smile three words tumbled out before he even realised he had thought them. The smile on Tina’s face had died instantly, replaced by confusion and surprise, and she turned to him as though she had just been stupefied.

“What did you say?” She murmured, eyes wide, face emotionless. Newt’s eyes looked to the grass, to the puffskiens, to the shed, anywhere but where Tina was, eventually focusing on a single daisy the poffle had failed to consume between them. His eyes were also wide, but not looking remotely at her. “Newt, what did you say?” She knew what he had said, she had perfect hearing and he hadn’t mumbled like he so often did, there was no question what the words he had said were or what they meant.

“I didn’t say anything, I mean I did but, it’s not important, I-” _I didn’t mean it? A lie. It was a joke? Unbelievable and a lie, he would never have thought it a funny joke. I’m sorry? Yes, yes he was sorry, he was always sorry, of course he was sorry, he was sorry about everything, about this whole ridiculous mess of a life_ -

His train of thought was interrupted by Tina suddenly seizing his shoulders and rather forcibly kissing him, her lips bruising his as she wound her arms about his neck, and in his surprise he couldn’t recover himself to react until her tongue was entwining with his, desperate and aching. When they pulled apart she did not look into his eyes, instead she buried her face in his shoulder once more.

“I love you too, Newt Scamander.” She whispered, curling around him as he clung to her. “I’ll always love you.” Their embrace was an intimate one, her in his lap, he in her arms, whole only together, but despite the lack of respectability this position entailed neither made any attempt to rectify the situation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the puffskiens aren't very important, I just really wanted to use the word poffle in this and I think I might up the rating a bit, sorry for the late update and have a nice day :)
> 
> Also... Always *grins mischievously.


	5. I'll Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt is called home, but Tina doesn't want him to leave. A silent fight ensues.

_New York, mid-afternoon, May 13th 1928_

Tina’s favourite day was Sunday, had been for a long time, in fact. Sundays when she and Queenie were younger entailed drowsy mornings in their parents bed, their father humming out of tune along to their magically altered gramophone as their mother began to cook an always particularly delicious meal following the Saturday of prior cooked meals. Sundays when they grew a little older meant skipping or walking about the park close to their new home with their grandparents, occasionally running down the road to see Old Mrs Fine with her strange tea leaf reading skills that Bubbe insisted were always accurate. Even at Ilvermorny Sundays were special, there were always some contest to participate in, a game to watch or a party to attend, so that it was always a struggle to focus on any assignment due Monday morning, and the food was always better. And yet, they could not hold a feather to the Sundays Tina had fallen into a habit of enjoying with Newt.

Lazy, long Sunday afternoons were special, watching the sun slowly begin it’s descent over a hot or cold beverage, feeling time come to a halt as they sat in gradually closer and more comfortable positions on the couch reading aloud, laughing or talking and then sharing dinner as the light of the day slowly faded and surrendered itself to the evening. It was a beautiful piece of serenity amid a somewhat chaotic world that never ceased to move at a faster pace than necessary.

“Favourite subject in school.” Tina said, her voice suspiciously neutral, her face devoid of any emotion as she sat up straighter, squaring her shoulders as her eyes revealed a defiant glint. There was a long pause, as Newt studied her features carefully, within his own mind assessing all probabilities and likelihoods.

“Charms.” He eventually decided, and surprising a giggle Tina smiled, confirming his hypothesis.

“What gave it away?” She asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“The seven volume series of Charms textbooks on the bookcase that haven’t moved despite Queenie having vacated the apartment several months ago.” Newt confessed, earning an even broader smile from his girlfriend.

“Nearly a year, now.” She replied, remembering how difficult it was to help her sister tidy up all her things for the last time, sorting all their shared positions into priority piles and having half hearted debates over who technically owned what. “I’m assuming you won’t make me guess which one was yours?” As someone who had written a book on the locating and caring for magical creature it was fairly obvious which subject Newt had liked the most.

“What is … my favourite colour?” Newt eventually asked, the way he leant back into the couch betraying his confidence. He didn’t remember telling her his favourite colour since their bizarre first date, and was certain that was not the most memorable part of that day.

“Blue or yellow.” Tina asserted swiftly, recalling distinctly having a similar conversation with him almost six months beforehand. She could tell by the way Newt smiled in response that he thought it was a very mundane source of happiness that she knew his favourite colour, but yet he smiled despite himself.

“Very good, but what about my favourite place in the world.”

“Give up, Newt, I know you.” Tina laughed, again remembering clearly the story he told of a meadow near his family home where daisies and buttercups never ceased to abound and the grass grew so long one could get lost amid the green stalks, and fall asleep beneath the sun and the wildflowers. However, Newt hypothesised that the place he was at that very moment might just become his new favourite place, more due to the company he kept than the cozy aesthetic Tina’s apartment offered. They were sitting very close now, closer than they usually did, being so aware of what every single action they made might imply, but when they were lulled into the easy conversation they had found that concepts such as ‘personal space’ and ‘polite distance’ evaporated.

It was a perfectly domestic moment, and yet there was some vibrance beneath the surface that was fighting to burst forth, an energy only detectable by how closely Tina studied her companion’s freckles and how Newt could not help but monitor her heartbeat and breath. Erratic, would be a fitting word for her respiratory performance, as obvious an indication of what she was thinking as the pink tinge that began to present itself beneath his freckles. The beautiful tension was abruptly ended, regrettably, by a loud tap on the window, the sound of a beak on glass instantly recognisable.

Hurriedly, almost like guilty teenagers caught in a disused broom closet, the pair leapt up, Newt scurrying across to open the window as Tina fiddled and smoothed out her skirt. She was very much intending to just stand there, wait for him to pass the letter on to her as she assumed he would, but when Newt just stood there, staring at the envelope in hand until the owl caused a distraction by forcing it’s way inside, Tina knew the letter was not for her, and she was right.

On the parchment, written in the bold but elegant handwriting of what surely was a confident, high ranking man, Tina had seen that font far too many times to count, was the name Newton Scamander, as well as New York City and The United States of America. Tina could sense the receiver of the correspondence’s reluctance from where she stood, but remained as she was, restraining the urge to force a conversation in an attempt to end the hunch in his shoulders or change the way he held the letters as thought it were a snake that could attack at any moment. Indeed, the magizoologist was likely more wary of some parchment with ink on it than a certain actually venomous, serpentine animal.

“You should probably open it.” She said after a while, her mind racing with suspicion. Newt nodded, but there was a long pause between him acknowledging her suggestion and eventually breaking the seal on the document and opening it up. His body tensed the moment his eyes met the page, colour receding from his face as he continued reading.

 

 

> _Newton,_
> 
> _I am writing you to ask for your return, and as it has been nine months since the publication of your book and I assume that the unexplained errand you considered so pressing has been fulfilled I do not believe it would be a very difficult request to accept. Father is ill, and we understand that it is not one of the mild bouts he is accustomed to, and is to be treated with the utmost concern. The healers are under the impression that it is a number of maladies and ailments that elderly wizards are accustomed to, although it would seem that the degree of stress he has endured throughout the years has aged his body considerably. While we are certain of a full recovery and your presence is not necessary for the healing process Mother needs you. She is having one of her unstable fits again and I find myself unable to meet all the duties expected of me as their only present son, and you have always had a way with her, particularly when she gets into her nervous moods. My time has been devoted between being with Mother in Dorset and in London at St Mungos with Father and attending to my very busy schedule as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and think it is high time that you make an appearance, seeing as you are still, despite your seemingly best efforts, part of this family and obligated to take up the responsibilities that entails._
> 
> _I have not heard much concerning you in New York, it appears that MACUSA has seen fit to react to these troubling times when communication is of the upmost importance by isolating itself and shutting down interactions between governments. My sources have informed me that you are doing some research and archive work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which I shall admit is an uncharacteristically stable line of work for you, and am convinced that it is a temporary position. I am certain there will be ample job openings here in England once you return that extend beyond a menial occupation within the beasts division earning two sickles a week, if that is you find the need to work at all. Access to your accounting information has been barred for me, however I would think that your little book has indeed made you something more substantial than what you are accustomed to, I would wager you could chose to take the year off if you wished so, something I would strongly recommend considering Mother’s difficulties and Father’s poor health at this time._
> 
> _A portkey shall be arranged in the mean time, I have contacts within transportation here and over there, and await your swift reply and hasty return. I also hope that this finds you in good health._
> 
> _Your brother,_  
>  _Theseus Polonius Scamander_
> 
>  

Newt was too shocked to speak for a long, long time, but by then a degree of suppressed anger had begun to stew, his entire body screeching out in protest how unfair it was, how difficult the decision was, how selfish his brother was being, how trying his brother was finding the situation, a jumble of contradictory thoughts that amalgamated together to create one large internal calamity.

“They want me to return to England.” Newt finally said, face pallid and voice emotionless. He didn’t even stutter, possibly because there was no time for apprehension or fear. He did not even consider Tina’s reaction, in fact. His anger with Theseus was misplaced, of course, he had no control over their father’s health, Newt clearly did, what with him causing him so much stress… No, Theseus did not deserve his anger, he had no control over this, and his father did not deserve his anger, he had no control over this. But, that lead to a very shortlist of people his anger might be directed at.

“What?” Tina stammered, as though she had not heard.

“I have to go back to England.” Newt repeated, a deep sigh making his entire body seem heavier.

“Why?” Why were the only things that could pass her lips single words?! Wordlessly, Newt passed the letter to her, his hand steady. Tina read it, over and over again, wracking her mind for some meaning behind the symbols that formed words and sentences, but her mind struggled to process the information, and when she finished reading her breaths were coming in ragged spasms.

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” She asked eventually, recognising the oddly formal tone the letter had for a fraternal exchange for that hauntingly terrifying thing named distance.

“Christmas,” Newt replied quickly, before realising that Tina knew exactly where he had been at Christmas - in the Kowalski’s apartment celebrating the holiday with Jacob while herself and Queenie just considered the day an excuse to sleep in and give people late Hanukkah gifts. Still, he maintained a straight face until her eyebrow arched so high it looked as thought it would meet her hair line and disappear. “Nineteen seventeen.” The look on her face was as though an erumpent had burst out of the far wall and ran across the room.

“You haven’t seen your brother in ten years?!” Newt assumed she was less appalled than she sounded, likely shocked more than anything, but as a sibling she probably did have some level of hurt in her mind as well. He wouldn’t be surprised, she was so close to Queenie after all, she wouldn’t be able to comprehend the slightest about his relationship with his brother.

“It was a very awkward Christmas.” A pale excuse, a weak explanation, but then again that was all he was, wasn’t it? Newt dismissed the negative thoughts as they came, if he didn’t they would plague him wherever he went, and besides, he was used to them appearing every once in a while, it always happened when he thought of the prim and proper, dutiful Scamanders that neatly fitted into their little corner of society back home. Still, those kind of thoughts had grown less and less consistent the more time he spent with Tina. She made him feel, well … worth her time? He wasn’t an inconvenience to her, he wasn’t some babbling fool that gabbled on about things she couldn’t care less about, he was someone when he was with her. Newt didn’t want to have to give up that feeling on behalf of those he had been set aside from, but that was a selfish reason to stay.

“Sounds like it.” Tina murmured, feeling entirely confused and completely ignorant of the man she had shared so much of her life with. How was it that she felt so vulnerable and bared before him, no longer the uptight and brittle career girl she was with everyone else, while he remained an enigma to her? She had known Newt was the younger brother of something of a war hero, an auror for the British Ministry of Magic, and that they were not exactly close. She had known he tended to avoid the topic of his father like the plague and mentioned his mother only when fondly remembering the hippogriffs she bred. She had known he had jumped at the chance of extending his time in New York beyond the traditionally family-orientated event of Christmas because of his family. She had not known anyone was prone to illness, fits of nervousness or taking up an air of superiority while penning a correspondence (the letter was very insufferable to read and reread). She had certainly not known there had been radio silence between Newt and his brother for ten whole years. Now, she just felt stupid and excluded, as though she was some insignificant little blip in the course of his life, as though she wasn’t even a part of it anymore.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him, so many questions that needed to be answered. _Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why haven’t you talked to them in so long? What happened ten years ago? How are you leaving? Did you think to tell them about us?_ The last and most urgent question, however, brought her the most pain. _Will there still be an us if you go?_

Tina wanted to shout and scream, communicate somehow to the universe that this was not fair, that it was so incredibly unjust that finally, as soon as their relationship had found steady footing that it might be over, but she did not. That would be immature. Tina wanted to get on her knees and beg him not to go, to plead and beg him to stay with her, for just a little while, but she did not. That would be unfair on Newt. Most of all, however, Tina wanted to cry, but she did not. The stoney faced, determined and confident Tina was back, the one that did not cry, the one that probably had no idea what tears were or understand the emotionally vulnerability required to produce them.

"Newt,"

"Yes."

"I'll miss you." Tina said, and quickly turned away as tears began to roll down her cheeks, suppressing a sob with her hand as he quietly made his way out, no mention of 'I love you' or 'I'll miss you' coming from him. She wiped her tears away, hand dragging it's way down to clutch at her throat, her collar, her shoulder feeling her chest rise and fall with her now unsteady breaths.

Newt was glad she didn’t ask him to stay, even if she wanted him to. He knew that he would never be able to refuse her that plea, but it never passed her lips and she hid her tears from him, which made it easier. For him, at least. 

He left by boat the next day, a portkey being too disorientating a means of transportation for his creatures, and Tina couldn't bring herself to see him off. There was hurt, and anger there too, far too much to be laid to rest by a simple good bye. And, when Tina sat at her desk in the auror's office, eyes set on the clock as it chimed happily to inform everyone that it was two o'clock in the afternoon, the time the love of her life's boat sailed, she wondered not for the last time whether she would ever see Newt Scamander again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello one and all, so sorry for the delay! I was planning on my newtina babies having a fight, but found myself avoiding writing so I didn't have to put my heart through the pain, and now it's not really a fight just a silent anger/sadness. Tell me how you think, the next update won't be far away I don't think! :)


	6. A Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt is reunited with his family and finds the courage to write to Tina.

_Liverpool, mid-morning, May 20th 1928_

It’s strange, how one becomes accustomed to another’s constant presence, to the point where they are so used to it that the mind assumes they are beside them, just out of eyesight. Despite how late in Spring it was fog had set an overcast morning for the passengers of the steamboat as it pulled into harbour at Liverpool, and Newt had been content to sit in the damp air on deck, case carefully resting on his lap, entirely alone save for the phantom at his side. The sea was dark, but not choppy enough to make the passengers that had stayed for most of the journey below decks remain there until it came time to disembark. By nine o’clock they were all up to enjoy the sea air they had spent a week cursing and hiding from, and for the last hour of the voyage across the Atlantic Newt had found no peace.

Now, as they all rushed forward to wave to their families over the rails or to peek out at this new, strange country, he steeled himself for the inevitable. The night before he sailed he had sent an owl to his brother, explaining that a portkey was unnecessary and, in fact, unusable due to the difficulty a portkey would cause for the animals he was travelling with, and that he would arrive in Liverpool at ten o’clock on the 20th of the month, according to his ticket. He had no reply from Theseus, but Newt assumed someone would meet him on the docks when he disembarked, and in all likelihood it would be the man himself. As the gulls whirled above his head, betrayed only through the thick fog by their endless cawing, the magizoologist found that for the first time since his first few voyages almost a decade ago he was suffering from some sort of nausea induced by the waves. Or induced by that irrational, niggling fear he always felt whenever a familial social gathering drew near.

There was something about Theseus Scamander that marked him out in a crowd, that set him apart, and perhaps in his own head above, the majority of his fellow individuals. His sheer social presence was enough to draw attention to him, and his appearance and bearing kept it with him. He stood tall above the muggles that streamed out of the small set of customs desks, face set stern as Newt scuttled over to him, his posture already in great contrast to his sibling’s.

Everything was in contrast, really. Theseus was broad, Newt was thin, Theseus was ‘unblemished’, Newt was freckled, Theseus exuded confidence, Newt… To say Newt did not was a grievous understatement.

“Newton.” He greeted him, with as much delight in his voice as one would express when coming face to face with a dirty sock. Newt imagined he might physically feel his brothers eyes sweeping over him, assessing every inch of his face, his clothes. Conscious of his posture, he tried to straighten up, square his shoulder and perhaps seem less timid.

“Theseus.” While his brother had uttered his name in monotonous, clean syllables Newt was incapable of pronouncing Theseus’s name with a lilt, although it did come out just as reluctantly. Eyes wide, as if he was expecting some kind of challenge, Newt met his brother’s analytical gaze, feeling very much like he was under inspection. If he had been awaiting a challenge, he did not need to wait long.

“You do know there are more efficient means of transportation,” Theseus frowned, distaste written across his noble, well distinguished features so typical of Scamanders. “I do hate to complain, however-” Newt very much considered inserting a prompt “Since when?” into the conversation right about there, but kept his thoughts to himself, “I do need you to understand that it’s somewhat embarrassing to inform a superior,” Again, Newt felt like saying something along the lines of “Oh, you’ve realised you have one, then,” but restrained himself, “that no, you will not be requiring that favour you asked of them because your brother is content to waste precious time.”

“Yes, so, so sorry about that,” Newt actually said, blinking a little, “the case wouldn’t do well with travelling.” The face Theseus made at the mere mention of his creatures might have turned fresh horklump juice unusable. “Shall we?” He asked, not quite prepared for a public riot just yet, not even very sure where they would be going.

“Yes, of course.” Theseus agreed, but his eyes lingered on the battered case, held securely shut by tired locks and string, for just a little longer.

Even though they shared the same colouring, pale, pale skin and ruddy brown hair, to the point where the familial relationship could be recognised, their mannerism quickly brought into question any blood ties. Even the way they walked was different, one making great heavy strides, the other inhibited by a distinct odd gait, one foot set ahead on an angle while the other dead straight ahead. One had absolutely no time for the bustling crowds around them, very obviously having some urgent business to attend to, the other looking quite content to be caught up by the stampede and go where the wind went. Strange, really.

Once the pair reached a suitable place of low visibility, Theseus grabbed his younger brother’s arm and off they went. It was a second or two before Newt gained his sense of direction, and by then he was seized by familiar arms and pulled into one of the tightest embraces he was ever likely to receive.

“Hello, Mother.” He stammered, struggling to move his arms as his mother clutched tighter onto him. Despite always insisting she wanted the best for him, Newt had found that after long periods of time apart his mother often forgot he needed to breath on a regular basis and would hold him like this for as long as she could before his requirement for oxygen forced him to protest.

“Oh, Newt!” His mother hastily pulled away, and he could see tears welling in her eyes as she reached up wrinkled hands to cup his face, “You haven’t changed a bit!” He wasn’t sure whether she was telling him this out of delight or disappointment, but there it is.

“Neither have you, Mother.” Newt’s heart broke knowing it was a lie, seeing the new age lines and wrinkles that had appeared around her tearful eyes and smiling mouth and realising that she was decidedly mortal, and getting rather old.

“Oh, you! Nonsense, I look quite like a banshee since last you saw me I expect, no matter, you’re here now.” That was when he looked about him, saw the walls and carpets, the matching drapes and plush furnishings, and knew exactly where he was.

The old house in Dorset never seemed to change, no matter what happened in the outside world, or even within the family. Politics, drama, war, all that meant precious little to the reliable old things that made the manor what it was, old and stuffy, but still comfortingly familiar in it’s faded, post grandeur self. Newt felt like he was invading someone’s private home, for an instant, before remembering that this was his home, or at least it had been. It seemed as though that nothing had been moved in a decade, even the photographs on the mantel above the fire were all correctly positioned, smiling and waving remnants of a bygone age - his childhood.

“Your brother said you would be arriving today, but I must confess I didn’t quite believe him,” She said, nervously fighting with the collar of her robes, prompting Theseus to roll his eyes in a conspicuous manner. Newt hoped his mother was not very injured by his brother’s sentiments, but he wasn’t very sure. Viola had never been one to openly express how she felt, particularly when she was hurt, just like the rest of the family, but as she had not been raised to suppress her feelings and it tended to go against her inner nature her emotions would present in large outbursts once every few months or so, and Newt could tell by the way she was fidgeting that one was not far away.

“I only just arrived, probably less than five minutes ago, actually.” He hurriedly replied, before realising exactly what he had just said would lead to.

“Goodness, you must be hungry then! Boat, again, was it? No, no, no you need to eat.” Theseus seemed particularly amused by the turn of events.

“Just a smidge, Mother, I’m really not that hungry.” Newt pleaded as she hurried to the doorway, calling for the house elf.

“Newton, it does no good to starve yourself, what with going overseas all the time and all, you really need to eat as much as you can while you can…” Viola dismissed his objections, having decided very firmly that she was going to force-feed him until he would burst.

“They, they do have food in New York, Mother.” He sighed, very confused by how determined she would get over such a trifling thing as food. For a moment he felt as though he had never left.

“Well, I ought to be heading off.” Theseus declared, shooting Newt another amused grin, something that was returned with his brother’s typically awkward no teeth smile, somewhere between a grimace and a euphoric display of restrained giddiness.

“Yes, well, we’ll see you soon, I hope!” Viola answered without turning to him, marching down the hall to find out exactly where Sookie had gotten to, which seemed to Newt odd, but he resigned himself to not questioning it as Theseus nodded his good byes and promptly disapparated.

 

* * *

 

“What caused you to stay in New York for so long, Newton, pray tell?” Viola finally came to ask as she took her seat opposite him, carefully setting down her cup of tea on the table as she did. Newt smothered a chuckle at her archaic phrasing, quickly checking her reaction afterwards before taking a sip from his own cup. She seemed mildly surprised, but smiled all the same. “You’ve never really stayed in one place since you left home, the life of a wanderer for you, right?” Newt blushed and turned to his right, the view from the window incredibly reassuring.

The parlour had always been his favourite place in the house, always so full of light no matter what the season or weather, with a view of the pastures and hills that lead right down to the sea, long grass billowing in the wind. All the places he had been, and he had wound up back there, looking out the window at the fields he had spent his childhood traipsing about in, dreaming that he was off some place else having grand adventures. “You’ve seen Europe, Newt, I can’t name all the countries you’ve sent my photos and letters from, all over Central Europe, Scandinavia, though of course that isn’t quite that safe anymore, and the Mediterranean. Oh, I would have loved to see Greece, see where my hippogriffs belong, but I don’t suppose that will happen…”

“It was beautiful, Mother.” Newt replied in a soft voice, recalling all the photographs he had sent her, the sketches of the wild hippogriffs he had found, and the rocky, mountainous terrain with coves and inlets with water as blue as the sky.

“I’m sure it was, but you didn’t stay very long, did you?” Viola did not take an accusing tone as she said it, but Newt felt it all the same. “Next it was Turkey and Arabia, Persia, India! China, Japan, the Pacific… South America, ran about the Amazon for a while, don’t forget half of Africa-”

“Mother, I know I haven’t been the most grounded of people,”

“I just want to know what made you stay in New York that isn’t here in England, that’s all, or anywhere else in the world, frankly.” Sharp, terse, definitely an accusatory air. And suspicious.

“I have friends in New York,” Newt told her, his self consciousness keeping his eyesight far into the long grass. Usually the mere mention of someone other than one of his creatures would give her pause for thought, but her reply was instant.

“You have family here!” And he stared at her, mild confusion on his face, as if she was just another magical animal he was studying to put into a book. “Newton, you have always prioritised your friends over family,” Viola added quietly, but they both knew she was only referring to one certain friend, “I just - your father’s very ill, Newt. I know Theseus made it sound like nothing in his letter, but we really aren’t quite sure how long he has, and we need you here.” The eyes that had been fighting back tears now spilled over with them, and the son reached out to hold his mother’s shaking hand.

“I’ll be here, Mother, I’ll be here.” Newt assured her, forcing another of one of his smiles. He wasn’t quite sure how to comfort her, usually whenever he had heard anything abut family troubles it was the parents that did the comforting, not that his own personal experience enlightened him on how to comfort a human being.

“You never used to do that.” His mother murmured after a while, tears still in her eyes.

“Do what?”

“Look people in the eye like that, it’s new.” She smiled, and Newt blinked a little. Yes, he hadn’t really realised it before, but he sometimes found himself pleasantly surprised by how easily he was able to remember rather simple details about people’s faces. He never really figured out someone’s eye colour for weeks, always focused on their ear, cheek, perhaps even nose or eyebrows, because that was easier. It provided the illusion he was confident enough to look at them without actually sharing the intimate act of eye contact. Now, he could see the faded flakes of green in his mothers eyes, eyes that were like his own, but much, much older.

“Theseus tells me you work at the Ministry over there, or is it Congress? Anyway, with the Magical Creatures Department.”

“Yes, I’m filling the post as a consultant on dragons, actually.” He smiled, disliking the small talk that was necessary for social interactions, but very much relieved that it had replaced discussing his strange habits and skewed priorities.    
“So, it’s not permanent?” Dangerous territory, yet again.

“For an indefinite length of time, the previous consultant is researching what he believes to be a recently discovered species in South-East Asia. I personally think it’s a variant of the Antipodean Opaleye, possibly an undocumented paternal strain of the genesis, but he’ll be in the field for a while yet, and I was there when he left so I was offered the position.”

“Must be intriguing work,” Viola commented without any real consideration of what his current profession would entail, as a mother she simply heard the word ‘dragon’ and was considerably concerned, but years of poor reactions to her hippogriffs had made her numb to such things for the most part. “You also mentioned friends?” Of course she remembered that part. Newt was surprised she had not been stunned into silence at the mere mention of acquaintances, let alone what would be considered friends. It wasn’t like him, to make friends, he was never that good at it and his family had taken an adverse position concerning his last long lasting friendship.

“Yes, um I met them when I was last in New York, during the obscurus incident.” On his return to London to finish editing his complication of studies on magical creatures he had hosted his mother in his dingy, impoverished apartment (not his favourite place in the world, and it most certainly hadn’t been hers), and he had explained why exactly he was all over the Daily Prophet.

“Tell me about them.” She guided gently, and Newt realised he was being fairly reluctant with information, something that confused him. Why didn’t he want to discuss his friends? He hoped it was something related to Jacob and Queenie’s matrimonial state being illegal, but he sincerely doubted they were who he was avoiding mentioning.

“Well, there’s Jacob, he’s a muggle baker, we met when there was some confusion over which suitcase belonged to who and-”

“No wonder Piquery had the International Confederation breathing down her neck afterwards, Merlins Beard that case truly is a liability, Newton!” They had endured similar discussions on a number of occasions, and it always ended in the conclusion that Viola would maintain her stance that the menagerie of magical beasts he kept in a magically expanded suitcase would only lead him into trouble and Newt would insist that he needed to look after said magical creatures because no one else would and therefore must be with them at all times. It felt like they would be going about in circles, again.

“Yes, but he did take it quite well.” Which was more than what could be said for most muggles. “He’s actually married to a witch, now, a legilimens I also met when I was first over there, Queenie, Queenie Goldstein - rather Kowalski, I suppose.”

“Ah, was she that auror the articles mentioned all that time ago?” Viola asked, now seeming genuinely curious, and Newt nearly spat out his tea at the idea of the younger Goldstein sister being an auror, “I recognise the name, found the papers again not too long ago.” Madame Scamander would ‘accidentally’ preserve any clippings of interest from the Daily Prophet or any other news papers of interest, and often found them great sources of information later on.

“Uh, no, that’s her elder sister, Tina,” Newt corrected her briskly, quite bewildered as to how panicked he felt at the mention of her, “Por, Porpentina Goldstein.”

“Is she your friend too?” Such an innocent question, such a difficult answer. How might he summarise their relationship? It was far too familiar to be called a friendship, Newt suspected he wouldn’t kiss an awful lot of his friends in that way, wouldn’t think about an awful lot of his friends in that way, but they were friends as well as… What, exactly, lovers? Partners? If it was a century beforehand would he be considered a gentleman caller?

“Yes, she’s my friend as well,” As well as the woman he loved, the woman he belonged with, the reason he was, for perhaps the first time, very much convinced he was not alone in this world.

“Do they expect you back?” The most perilous of terrain, yes, Newt was very much in enemy territory and he had not even seen it coming.

“You know I really do not know.” He said quite suddenly, honesty spilling out with the dawning realisation that he had never specified returning to New York being a possibility at all, let alone it being a likelihood. For all Jacob and Queenie knew he was going to be in England forever, for all Tina knew she would never see him again… He wondered if she was as disturbed by that thought as he was, and found quite the inspiration to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! So sorry it took so long, and I apologise for basically 3,000 words of nothing, but I really struggled with this chapter, Theseus being a very difficult character for me to decide on. I don't really like the idea of him being a corrupt, one sided brute all that much, but I didn't see him and Newt being particularly close either. Still, sometimes siblings aren't close for any particular reason, and you can have some personality differences with Newt without making you a horrible person.
> 
> Hope this was okay, please comment! :)


	7. Love Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina receives something that might just be called a love letter.

  
_New York, late evening, May 27th 1928_

Tina had always been the practical, steadfast one. She had never seen the need for her feelings to interfere with how she went through her day and ran her life, which may have labelled her as a cold fish or, in more kinder terms, fairly devoid of emotion. Those that had gotten to know her, the few she ever allowed to, anyway, soon came to realise that the exact opposite was the case, the her emotions ruled her actions occasionally on a dramatic level, she was just very good at hiding it. Today was one of the days that she found herself in a distant sate, what Queenie had always theorised to be a defence mechanism after feeling no small amount of hurt. Detached, disinterested, aloof, indifferent, remote, they were all better words than lonely, despairing, grieving, dare she admit pining?

Still, Tina was methodical and precise, silly-nonsense-imaginary sentiments would not get in the way of her doing her job to the highest standard, even if her task was filing paperwork following a raid on another underground speakeasy. While within wizarding society in the United States there were no laws banning alcohol as there were in no-maj legislation, the trafficking of poisons designed for human consumption and other similar materials associated with the dark arts were firmly illegal, and speakeasies had become a breeding ground for such contraband. Although she did struggle to dedicate herself to all the forms necessary to document the illegal sale of Baneberry Potion and Death-Cap Draught when her mind insisted on straying.

Interdepartmental memos were amusing things, sent through the tube system at rapid speed they constructed themselves into some animal or other, but her time in the Wand Permit Office had taught her to be cautious of them, as occasionally the memos would attack each other if too much paperwork piled up and they grew restless. So, when a swan glided out of the bronze tube that snaked down the wall, beneath the floor and came to rest by Tina’s desk, the auror hurriedly seized the piece of paper before it could complete it’s elegant path to the pile of forms. Often she would be able to recognise a memo sent by particular individuals who contacted her often as they would take the form of a particular animals according to who sent it through the system, but no swan had ever reached her desk before. Frowning, she smoothed out the paper, and was met with the immaculate script on paper that smelt not-so subtly perfumed.

 

> _Miss Porpentina Goldstein,_  
>  _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_  
>  _Office 9C_
> 
> _At precisely quarter to nine o’clock at night, May 27th, an owl arrived in the Department of Magical Communications and Postal Network centre carrying a letter addressed to you. Please proceed to the information desk of the department to collect your correspondence. If you are not the intended recipient of this notice please return this promptly._
> 
> _Calluna Wilkinson_  
>  _Department of Magical Communications and Postal Network_

There was always something about the novelty of a letter that caught Tina’s attention, in addition to her heart skipping a beat at the idea of who the letter could be from. She only had a few school friends she kept in touch, most of which she still talked to because they worked for congress, and so never really received letters unless they were invitations to formal occasions. There was only one person that would think to write to her, and so she knew exactly what to answer when she walked up to the MCPN (as it was often known as) desk and was asked the ritual question of “Domestic or International?”.

“International I, uh, think,” Tina replied, the back of her neck prickling as the door closed behind her in the dimly lit office. It reminded her of her short tenure as a Wand Permit Officer, except the permit offices were just unused and unheard of for the most part. Owls were not permitted to be used, on pain of a fine, within cities due to their abnormal flight patterns attracting the attentions of no-majs, so those who were aware of the American system would send mail to the department, where the staff would open the envelope and notify the intended recipient of their awaiting correspondence, or send it out with mail carriers into the floo powder network. This made the MCNP quite necessary.

“Tell me when you’re sure, honey.” The witch at the desk smiled sourly, her grey streaked brunette hair and clear bitterness reminding Tina of her old Professor of Arithmancy who always made it his personal vendetta to abuse all of his students with obnoxious amounts of sarcasm.

“International.” Tina asserted, very conscious of how quickly her patience was going to run out if she continued getting irritated.

“Door to the left.”

* * *

She had to bring the enveloped back to her desk, but couldn’t find the restraint to put it in her coat pocket and proceed with work as normal. Instead, she sat it down, propped up against her double ink well where she could stare at the way Porpentina Goldstein was written in curling, but understated, script. For such an eccentric individual his handwriting was surprisingly flowing, she never really noticed it before. She’d expected something scratchy or awkward, not graceful and easy, but then again he wrote so often and complied so many extensive notes, of course his writing would look so beautiful and natural… _Obsessive, aren’t we, Goldstein?_ She chided herself, returning to her paperwork.

Then, just after she finished filling out yet another document concerning exactly what Witness 7 had said, her office mate began shuffling about, sorting his things into drawers before standing, taking his coat, and mumbling something along the lines of his wife demanding he come home before she fell asleep left Tina alone. Gleefully, like a child, Tina tore the envelope open, smiling even more at the feel of the three page thick content that fell into her hand as she cast the torn envelope aside.

_20/05/28_

_Dearest Tina,_

_I miss you, and I should have told you I was going to miss you the moment I found out that I needed to leave, but I didn’t so I suppose I should begin with that. I’m sorry that I didn’t say a proper good bye, and I’m sorry that not everything was explained before I left. Most of all, I’m sorry I’m not with you now. I keep thinking you’re with me, even though you are thousands of miles away from me and separated by an ocean. I hope it won’t be long until I’m back, but I have no idea how long I will be needed here._

_I arrived in England this morning, and met my brother in Liverpool where the boat docked. Then, we met mother at home and we talked for a very long time. It appears that while Theseus attempted to understate the severity of father’s condition, but it appears that he has considerable difficulties with his heart and lungs. We plan to visit him tomorrow at St Mungos, the only wizarding hospital in England. I really don’t know how long I’ll be here, Tina, and I miss you too much already. Mother asked about you, or rather my friends in New York. She was interested about Jacob, Queenie and you. She asked if you were a friend, and I didn’t quite know how to explain what you were to me. I told her you were my friend, because you are, as well as so much more to me, I love you so much Tina._

_Forgive me, I’m rambling. I’m very tired, I’ve never slept well at sea, no matter how many voyages I’ve taken, I don’t think I’m focusing very well. My letters are usually a lot more structured and organised, truly. It’s practically midnight, I should be asleep but I’ve been needing to write to you since Mother brought you up and I really just need to feel as though I’m talking to you, I already miss spending hours on end just talking to you. So sorry, I ought to avoid using such informal language in correspondence it isn’t very dignified._

_I was talking with Mother, looking out the window as you have noted I have a habit of doing on occasion, looking at this field that I really like that you likely don’t need me to describe, and I was overcome by how dreadful being away from you feels, and how wonderful being with you is. Next time perhaps you would come with me and see the field, and I believe my mother would like some confirmation that I do in fact have friends. I don’t know why but I feel like I ought to share this place with you. Yes, my family home isn’t exactly the source of all happy memories, though I suppose you might not know the details on that, but it is a good place, and some parts of it are happy. I want to show you all the places I’ve been, chances are I’ve bored you with terribly recounted stories of some of the more alarming instances I’ve had in them, but I feel like I should experiencing more of this life with you, not half a world away writing letters to you at owl hours._

_I can’t live without you, Tina. It didn’t take a week without you to realise that, but it took a week without you to tell you. You ought to know, I suppose, and if there’s anything me coming back here has taught me is how urgent life really is. I love you, I miss you desperately, even though we’ve been together for a few months I seem to have changed quite remarkably. You’ve made me a different person, my love, and I will forever be grateful, but this different person is missing a very vital part of him, you. And I’m writing everything down here, aren’t I?_

_How are you? I really should have begun with that. Is it very wrong to hope that you are missing me as much as I miss you? The drawback with writing letters is, while I appear to not be able to stop explaining myself, I really don’t know how you will respond to my nonsense. Please write to me, I need to read your words even if I can’t hear them._

_This letter seems rather sporadic, I ought to proof read it but my eyes hurt from the dim light - ten years I’ve been away and still no one has thought to improve the lighting in my room - so sorry if there is grammar mistakes and alike typography mishaps. Everyone in the case is fine also, though the new occamy hatchlings have been victims of eggshell theft (I suspect the Niffler is responsible), and I had yet another riot with the bowtruckle branch (Titus has some issues with the new tree because it’s elder wood and not wiggentree). Other than that, everyone is happy and content, excepting this strange person that is writing this letter and is named Newt Scamander, he is feeling rather lonely at this moment in time._

_All my love,_  
_Your Newt_

 _Postscript:_  
_Frances, the Eagle Owl that is accompanying this letter, is likely with the Department of Magical Communications at MACUSA if you are reading this, that or I am about to be sent a bill that utterly robs me. Either way, please ensure that she is taken into your care as I do not trust the demoted secretaries ideas of what passes as ‘proper and ethical care’ as they refer to it as, cramped cages and mouldy pellet food is not a kind way to treat anyone, especially if they have flown such an excessively long distance._

 _Forever yours,_  
_Newt_

_P.S_

_Also note that she appreciates small portions of uncooked meat, if there happens to be some about._

Tina would not admit that she struggled to breath, the joy within her welling into complete adoration as she revisited the “All my love, Your Newt” and “Forever yours, Newt” parts of the letter, as well as the typical postscripts that were so incredibly him. No, no she would always deny the way her heart skipped a beat when she reread the lines that read “I love you, I miss you desperately”, “You’ve made me a different person, my love,” and all the similarly heart-stopping phrases that littered the parchment. He wrote like he was speaking to her when he was tired, she now knew, just as he spoke as though he had the confidence of a king in similar circumstances. As the night grew later he was always more candid, more relaxed, more familiar. Tina had loved those conversations above all, and especially how they gave her the opportunity to take advantage of his more relaxed disposition to coax him into doing things his somewhat Victorian sensibilities would otherwise prohibit.

She missed him as much as he missed her, that he should never have to doubt, therefore, once she had dutifully freed Frances from her prison in the MCPN owlery and signed some forms so that she could keep the eagle owl in a residential location for a few days, Tina began drafting her own letter at home. Perhaps dubbing it a love letter was a stretch, but then again, maybe it wasn’t. It did, after all, address him simply as ‘My Love’ and the first paragraph dedicated to, just as his was, about how lonely she felt in his absence, and, unlike his, continued with the train of thought until Tina found that it was the early hours of the next morning and she needed new ink. Always prepared, the auror neatly packaged her letter and stuck it in her coat pocket to be dropped off at the MCPN department the next day, while Newt’s she delicately folded and placed in the draw of her nightstand, floating into dreams the happiest she had been since he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not long, but the next chapter will be, thank you all so much for reading xxx :)


	8. Absence Makes The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt visits his father and is confronted by his mother about exactly who he is writing all his letters to.

_London, late morning, June 3rd 1928_

No matter how many times Newt visited St Mungo’s he never grew accustomed to the way the mannequin nodded. The times he had been dragged to the healer as a child, the times that he had visited aged distant relatives as they slowly left the world, the times he had the times he had reluctantly visited the bedside of Macmillan following… following the incident, he had never been able to avoid the tingle on his spine when the head moved. It was strange. As soon as they were given the nod of consent Viola released an anxious sigh beside him, and with great anxiety Newt offered her his arm. Together they passed through the window and into the sterile white washed rooms of the ancient hospital, into a large foyer Newt always dreaded entering. There was a reception desk guarding the extensive staircase and a well furnished, if severely ornamented, seating area to one side, as far away from the main desk as possible, which Newt recalled from memory was where visitors were expected to await the head healer of a wards permission to visit, and the pair made their way to it, the silence of the atrium causing their footfalls to sound like drumbeats.

“The boy at the desk knows me on sight, now.” Viola murmured, rocking a little on her nervous perch at the edge of the couch. Newt glanced over to see the twenty-something at the front desk shuffling papers, occasionally glancing in his direction as he sent memos whirring through the air and up the stairs across the hospital. “He just doesn’t recognise you, is all.” She smiled, seeing the expression on her son’s face that looked as though he was ready to take off running. It wasn’t the curious glances that were causing this apprehension.

“Does he know I’m coming?” Newt eventually asked, noting that he was experiencing faint nausea an awful lot in recent days, accountable very clearly to be in close proximity to both his father and brother. His mother was the only relative he felt even remotely comfortable around, but there was something concerning about how fidgety she now was, something that made him feel guilty for leaving and helpless for the irreversibility of it.

“Uhhh, we, ah, told him once Theseus received your reply, but honestly I don’t know if he’ll be surprise or not, Newt,” His mother admitted, “his memory isn’t very good sometimes, and it’s difficult to know…” She trailed off. Newt’s father had always had a perfect memory, he wasn’t even sure whether or not he forgot anything, so it was difficult to imagine him quite so altered.  
  
“Right, so we don’t know how he’s going to react, then?” The last time he had seen Falco, well, it hadn’t ended well. Christmas that year had been very awkward, indeed.

“No, not really, even when he’s fully with us he can be quite irritable, it’s occasionally unpleasant, actually. One time Theseus brought Caelestis with him and he said some awful things, things I’m sure he didn’t mean, and she left in tears, it was heartbreaking truly,” Newt was spared the remnant of the story by her getting distracted, the fondly dubbed ‘boy at the desk’ waving at her to draw attention to him. He handed them both approval slips when they reached the desks, and even offered a warm smile as they ascended the steps.

Scamander the elder was situated in the diagnostics ward equivalent on the second floor - used for Magical Bugs and Diseases - an unusual occurrence seeing as diagnosing a magical malady was often the easiest part of the healers day, there were simple tests and spells to go through as always, but the results were a little skewed, so there he remained. A magical mystery, Viola had told him one mediwizard dubbed it, according to her a euphemism for incurable, apparently. Newt had an inkling, based of what little information he had gleaned from Theseus, that perhaps it was more along the lines of his body simply being too old. Still, despite being prepared for a severely aged version of his father, Newt had not been prepared for what he met in the little two-bed room that passed as a diagnostic ward.

Falco Scamander had put off marrying until he was closer to fifty than forty, unusually late, but his father before him had heavily impressed on him that he ought to find himself an occupation and appropriate livelihood and income before considering matrimony. So, he did not propose to any woman that came into his life until he had met his ambitions. His Hogwarts sweetheart, so passionate, wild and of perfect breeding and respectable family, did not wait for him. His officemate turned flirting partner, beautiful, loyal, ambitious, did not wait for him. Viola Vance, fresh from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and newly accepted into Mysteries, witty, kind and bright, probably wouldn’t have waited either, but he was elevated to Head of the Department of Mysteries just in time. He had regretted it, just as he knew he would, as soon as he realised that his back hurt when he tried to lift up his toddler son. He kept on regretting it when their second child came and noticed he was far too tired to even play with him. With two sons in their thirties, he was old even considering wizard standards.

Of course, Newt knew none of this, even Theseus only knew a little from the one time their father was less than restrained with the fire whisky, and then he still had to decipher some drunken ramblings. Viola likely knew less. Now, whatever remnant of the vivacious, tireless young man that had soared through the auror ranks and clawed his way into becoming an Unspeakable, had withered into a shrunken old man with no taste for living, and Newt was shocked beyond belief. He had thought himself prepared for the worst and, while this was not the worst of his imaginings, the air had been driven out of his lungs and he was left speechless, staring at someone who was, in some nonsensical parallel universe, his father.

During the Awkward Christmas Falco Scamander had still been blessed with a full head of hair, though admittedly grey-white and thinning, but the man before Newt had only whisps of hair remaining, and the bags beneath his eyes had been present, always present, but not bruises as they were now. And his eyes, yes they were open now and staring right at them, his eyes were always bright, startling so, not yellowed and obviously clouded. He was hollow now, a shell of a man still trapped within gradually weakening confines. His expression, his very glance, betrayed exactly how desolate he was, and how there was nothing to be done about it. Hopelessness fit him like a glove, old Falco, who had bandied about the words “disappointment”, “useless” and “hopeless” like they were weightless, he had never expressed any optimistic or confident sentiments concerning anything, even his own sons’ lives. Indeed, especially not his sons’ lives.

“I have a visitor.” He eventually declared, eyes boring into Newt with some quizzical fascination that the younger Scamander had never though he would be the recipient of. Did that mean today was a good day? Did that mean he recognised them, remembered who they were?

“Yes, yes, you do, Sweetheart.” Viola urged wanly, a thin smile attempting to placate whatever negative sentiments that threatened to arise, hinted at by the venomously blank face her husband met their youngest son with. “Newton’s come from New York to see you,”

“Newton,” His voice was thin and wheezy, revealing a difficulty with the lungs that had been absent from the numerous reports his mother and brother had provided him over the days - or rather weeks - he had been cooped up in the house. Newt had been kept busy, his mind as far away from his ailing father while his editor sent him letter upon letter about issues concerning accounts and how much profit the book was bringing in (almost nothing, as it turned out), but his brother had given him strict directions to keep their mother company, and he had been happy to oblige. In actuality he hadn’t given thought to whether or not his father would be happy to see him in an appalling long time considering he was the reason he was in the country.

“Father,” Newt acknowledges, taking a hesitant step closer to the bedside, “How are you feeling?”

“Dismal.” Falco answered stiffly, making an attempt to sit up, and Viola hurried to his side, plumping up the pillows as he batted her away. “So, decided to give up galavanting about the world, boy?” He asked, and to anyone else it would have sounded demeaning. Newt, however, knew that ‘boy’ was about as affectionate as his father ever was, in fact, Theseus once made a crude joke about how he didn’t expect their father to be “great with pet names for mother behind closed doors, if you gather my meaning,”, an idea Newt had hoped to Merlin he would forget as soon as possible.

“No, I’m still travelling regularly.” Newt forced a smile in response, nodding awkwardly as his eyes ran across the room again.

“When are you going to get yourself a real job, son?” Falco’s sigh was tired, exhausted by his children’s poor decisions.

“Please let’s not discuss this now, please, this is such a nice change, having all of us together again.” Newt wondered whether or not his mother had somehow fazed out any memory of how troublesome their family reunions tended to become, her smile was so genuine, if small.

“Your healer, uh, Elonn, I think, mentioned something about you being able to come home soon.” Newt added, remembering the numerous documents Viola had shown him, how she had joyously told him about getting him back for a week or two. In reality it was because there was only so much magic could do for a body that was failing.

“Yes, we’re going to have a big family dinner, with Theseus and Caelestis and Newton, of course, it’ll be wonderful.” Viola beamed, pulling up a chair to sit beside her husband, looking expectantly at her son to do the same. “Theseus is so caught up in work, it would be so wonderful for us all to celebrate you getting better.”

“I’m not getting better,” Falco replied bluntly, uninterested in feigning good health when he simply was nothing but ill, “Sooner or later I’ll be sent home to die, how is that worth celebrating?”

“Please don’t say things like that, dear,” Viola requested, pleaded or told him, Newt wasn’t sure where it fell in categorising it. She looked considerably upset from where he stood on the other side of his father’s sickbed, shaken as the tears in her eyes proved. “I brought you the Daily Prophet, thought you might want a read, I know they don’t allow owls in here,” She proceeded to furrow around in her handbag, hiding her watery eyes.

“So why exactly are you here, Newton?” His father scrutinised him again, greyed eyebrows arched.

“Surely a son’s allowed to visit his father once in a while,” Newt answered evenly, unwilling to admit that Theseus had felt compelled to inform him of Falco’s health.

“I really am dying,” Falco snorted in disbelief, accepting the Daily Prophet as Viola handed it to him. “Ah, more death in Europe, I think I shall give up current events, the blood thirsty fanatics really have made reading newspapers an odious task,” He announced after taking a glance at the headline, but proceed to read.

“They mentioned Newton’s book in Flourish and Blots annual ranking of books.” Viola murmured as silence descended on the trio. Yes, as the only book to be published under the category of Magical Creatures Non-Fiction, it’s only claim to fame. However, Newt wasn’t about to broadcast that to the world, and it wasn’t as though he was expecting to become a bestseller, he understood how little his fellow wizards were interested in his creatures. Still, it did sting. He had invested so much of his life and heart into the book and yet the world passed by unblinking.

“Ah, yes, you wrote a book didn’t you?” His father drawled, peering over his newspaper.

“Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. I’m still optimistic, however, about getting it into a second edition, Obscurus Books believes if I could revise it and publish before September then students might use it for Care of Magical Creatures and we could-” He was interrupted in his ramblings before he could quite finish, regrettably.

“Mmmh, and even after that decade long escapade you insist on avoiding us.”

“I am here, now, Father,” He reminded him, his temper bristling. His mother had, following his first real conversation with her, very subtly implied almost everyday how much he neglected them, while Theseus, when he was feeling less than cordial, simply came out and said it. Their father would be no different, but Newt was growing very exhausted by their constant guilt-mongering.

“Yes, but for how long, Newton?”

“Falco please, you shouldn’t stress yourself.” Viola chided, intervening before Newt said something he regretted.

* * *

Coming home was a relief after a morning with his father and lunch with his brother. It wasn’t that Newt disliked his family, rather they seemed to not like him very often, and there interactions seemed overly complicated even by human standards, which would always be something foreign to the magizoologist. In the quiet of his room he could clear his mind, relax, be alone and collect his thoughts. And then fill his mind with another’s words, his heart skipping a beat when he realised that a letter awaited him on his dresser. Sookie always left correspondence there, but Newt knew from the handwriting who it was from instantly.

Newt wrote to her everyday, and she responded with similar fervour, of course the dates were a few days behind by the time they reached each other, and it didn't match what talking to each other directly was like, but Newt still found some consolation writing to her. Tina was always so easy in her letters, even forward in her more recent ones, though of course not quite direct, and it felt to Newt like she was beside him talking to him, though the last time he had known her to speak so freely would have been when she grew a little tipsy after Queenie’s birthday party.

Breaking open the seal, Newt devoured the ink and paper, engraving the words on his heart as he read them. He smiled in parts, teared up every so often, blushed occasionally as he read possibly too much into well chosen words, and wanted more when he found the end of the parchment. Before he recovered from the sense of elation he felt reading her words he had scribbled down a novels worth of “I love you”s, “I miss you”s and, with growing confidence in response to her more informal statements, added in some flirtatious banter. With enthusiasm he had not felt since he was half his own age, or less, Newt giddily bounded down the stairs and down the hall into the kitchen, carefully setting down his envelope on the tray by the windowsill, along with all the others awaiting to be tied to an owl. His enthusiasm died, however, when his mother met him in the doorway going out into the herb garden.

“Another letter to send, Newton?” Viola challenged, eyes widening as if daring him to lie to her. She had grown suspicious of the amount of letters being sent in general from her largely antisocial younger son, and even more so when she found that more than half the letters were not going to his publishers.

“Yes, Mother,” Newt said promptly, feeling decidedly ambushed as his mother shut the outside door behind her and gradually placed herself between him and the corridor.

“To Miss Goldstein, again?” She guessed, eyeing the yellowed envelope from across the room. “You’ve been writing her a lot, haven’t you? Everyday, actually.”

“That’s, uhh, correct.” He affirmed, gaze bouncing about his mother but never looking directly at her.

“Are you quite sure she’s just a friend?” There was a pregnant pause, the air stiffening as Newt felt the slightest amount of panic. “Is it serious, Newt?” She asked quietly, soulful eyes finally making eye contact with his.

“That would depend upon your definition of serious, really,” Newt answered honestly, not sure what to expect in response. He should have told her what Tina meant to him the very second she asked that first day, but he had been too apprehensive, too unsure, and now he was likely in a bigger mess then he ever would have been without dodging what to define his relationship with her as.

“Does she know you love her?” Newt turned scarlet, becoming defensive when he realised his mother must have been counting the letters he sent Tina, hypothesising for weeks who on earth he had been talking to, exactly how significant she was in his life, how long they had known each other, so on and so forth.

“Yes, I told her a few months ago.”

“And the feeling is mutual?” The most difficult a question for a mother to ask, whether or not their child’s profound love and ardour were reciprocated.

“Yes.”

“Then why in the name of Merlin and Morgana did you not tell me about her before, Newton!?” Viola scolded, folding her arms across her chest.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“Think? No, no you did not, now sit.” Newt did as he was told. “Tell me about her,” His mother then urged in a softer tone, taking a seat across from him, “what is she like?”

“I think we’ve already discussed her, actually.” Remember, you didn’t believe that I had friends so you interrogated me until I felt I had committed a crime and then tried to hide that you were hurt that I spent so much time with them and so little with you? Great times…

“Yes, back when you said she was just a friend, but seeing as I now know my son’s in love with her I would like to have the opportunity to actually pay attention.”

“You and I both know you don’t forget anything, Mother.”

“Yes, but tell me again. In more detail, if you please.”


End file.
